


The Unkind Distance

by adustyspectacle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Canon Divergence, Cas is Cas but with Endverse!Cas's hair, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Ezekiel is Ezekiel, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Castiel, Jealous Dean, M/M, Oblivious Dean, because I don't want Kevin dead, but just a little bit, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adustyspectacle/pseuds/adustyspectacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was a week after getting kicked out of the bunker when Castiel meets him.</em>
</p><p>  <em>He reminds him of Dean, sometimes. Castiel likes to think that this man's soul would be bright and warm too, if he ever gets his wings back.</em></p><p>  <em>It's only a dream though, a passing fancy. Still, it's enough to distract him from the feeling of angel blades on his flesh.</em></p><p>--</p><p>Newly human Cas meets another hunter and snags himself a hunter boyfriend. They save people and hunt things, until Cas gets hunted and captured by angels.</p><p>Sam and Dean meanwhile have a falling out because of the whole Ezekiel thing, but they work together to track Cas before the angels get him.</p><p>There'll be equal emphasis on Cas/Dean, Cas/OMC(well, until the OMC goes, anyway lol), and Sam/Cas friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lone wolves

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fluffy one-shot about Dean getting super jealous because Cas found himself a boyfriend. Now there's chapters and a bit of angst and I actually have to flesh out the boyfriend. Ahaha. Plus, I kinda like the idea of Cas exploring other people( _heh_ ) first before getting it on with Dean. Also because a pining _and_ jealous Dean is a combo I can't resist, so... yeah.
> 
> Everything past 09x03 didn't happen, except for parts that I yoinked from canon because... I can and it fit the story?
> 
> Right, I hope to regularly(or semi-regularly) update this fic maybe once a week if I'm lucky, but life's a grade-A bitch so I'm not gonna make any promises. u_u

The hunter cursed himself as he lost sight of the creature he was supposed to be hunting. He quickened his step, almost running, but the night made him cautious. At least the sky was cloudless and the moon full, her pale glow softly illuminating the forest where it escaped into. It was eerily quiet, even with the soft rustling of the trees. The birds were silent, as if they were scared of the beast lurking amongst them right now.

It was his first time hunting a werewolf, even if he already knew the lore about them. Easy enough to kill, although silver bullets are a pain in the ass to get. He could have used a knife, but he’s not really as confident with blades as he is with guns.

He broke into a run and threw stealth out of the metaphorical window. There was no point, he reasoned with himself. The werewolf could probably hear or smell him even if he was quiet. He just hoped there was nobody here at this hour. It was late, almost dawn. And it wasn’t as if there was anything to see except for the trees, so there _should_ be no one, but you never know.

Of course, the gods (or whoever, he doesn’t really know, nor does he particularly care) were cruel and capricious. There was a clearing up ahead, with a body of water that’s too small for a lake but too big to be a pond. He finally spotted the werewolf, and he sighed in relief. Dread, however, quickly sank in as it rapidly approached someone standing near the water.

He took bigger, wider steps, forcing his legs to go faster, while quickly debating with himself on what to do. He considered shouting, alerting the crazy guy who likes to wander around in forests and stare at god knows what at the water’s surface, but that would alert the werewolf too. It might get spooked and escape. But then again, he didn’t really want to know what it would feel like if the guy gets his heart eaten right in front of him because of his indecision.

Not that it mattered now, because there’s no _time_. The werewolf was so close, he knew that even if he shouted now the guy would still be dead. Fuck. He started shouting anyway.

“Watc—”

There was a glint of silver, and next thing he knew, the werewolf was dead.

_What the fuck?_

He slowed down. The guy just killed a werewolf like he was swatting an irritating fly.But what’s weirder is that he’s staring at the corpse, and there’s this profound sadness emanating from his being. Like he _didn’t_ want to kill that werewolf.

Huh.

He’s close now. He’s equal parts curious and wary about this guy, but curiosity triumphed and he cleared his throat to catch the guy’s attention. He said to himself it wouldn’t kill the cat, but he’s a cynic at heart. His curiosity would, at the very least, maim a cat or two.

When the guy finally looked at him, he knew right then that he would be drowning in a sea of dead cats because _holy shit_ the guy was beautiful.

His hair was dark, soft, inky. It was chaotic and messy, but there was beautiful order on said chaos. His features were sharp, his jaw strong and accentuated by a five o’clock shadow. And his lips were the kind you want to kiss for hours.

But it was his eyes that made the hunter stare. It was blue, electrifying and calming at the same time. It was old, and ancient. His gut told him the man in front of him was dangerous, something supernatural, but his eyes and his expression just felt… _human_ that made him ignore his instinct.

He was beautiful and ethereal. Not even the Gas-n-Sip vest the man seemed to be wearing could detract from it.

They stared at each other. The hunter wanted to say something, but his voice was still caught up in his throat, unwilling. He didn’t know what to say anyway. And he didn’t really mind, because the guy can stare like nobody’s business.

It was cliché as fuck, but it felt like hours. In reality it was probably just a minute or two, maybe even less, but… yeah. The hunter was too busy staring. The man tilted his head to the side, just a fraction, and his face scrunched up into a frown and said, “You’re a hunter.”

Goosebumps erupted in his arms as he involuntarily shivered. He was pretty sure his knees wobbled a bit. The guy’s voice was deep, gravelly, and hot as fuck.

“Uh… yeah,” he managed to say. He also finally managed to break the eye contact, and looked down at the werewolf’s corpse. It looked fully human now. “Thanks, for killing him. Wanna help me take care of the body somewhere?” He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a come-on, but it did, and the hunter would have laughed at the absurdity if it wasn’t coming out of his own mouth.

The corner of the man’s lips turned up in what seemed to be an approximation of a smile. “Of course.”

“Right… uhm. I’m Ethan. What’s your name?”

There was silence, broken only by the soft rippling of the water. Then—

“Castiel.”

* * *

Sam didn’t know how long he can take Dean’s sulking anymore. It defied expectations and risen to levels Sam would not like to experience twice. It’s been… weeks and weeks, nearing two months, and it started ever since Cas came to the bunker and left at the same time. Dean said Cas left on his own, apparently because it was unsafe for them because he was being hunted by the fallen angels.

That was such an obvious lie Sam didn’t even know where to start. For one, the bunker was warded, and two, Dean would never have let Cas leave, _especially_ now that the former angel was human. Even more so when said angel was _actually_ killed by that reaper before they got to him.

It just didn’t make any _sense_.

“Oh you know how he is, he’s always flying off somewhere,” his brother said when Sam tried to broach the subject. His tone was angry, as it usually was whenever Cas leaves, but it’s a different kind of anger. There was guilt and longing mixed in that Sam hadn’t heard before.

It was three months after Cas left before he found out the truth.

“ _What the actual fuck, Dean?!_ ” Sam’s voice echoed throughout the bunker’s many halls. Sam was angry. He was livid. Enraged. But most of all he was resigned and tired.

He wasn’t even shocked anymore. At least, not as shocked as he should be, for being unknowingly possessed by an angel for three whole months. It’s just like Dean to pull an asshole move like that just so his little brother would live. Sam didn’t even feel a little bit grateful, unlike the last time when his brother sold his soul for him. He just felt violated. Unclean.

“I’m so—”

“ _Don’t!_ You may mean it, but we both know you’d do it again, so I don’t wanna hear your damn apologies!”

His older brother fell silent at that, hands curling into fists atop the library table. Sam started pacing, moving so the urge to punch something would dissipate. It helped abate the anger, and now the past three months started to make a little bit of sense.

Sam thought it was a side-effect from the trials, but the memory gaps must have been the times when Dean was talking to Ezekiel. Then there was that time when his throat was slashed by that shaman, but when he came to the only evidence he had was the blood on his clothes. And Cas… Ezekiel must have brought Cas back to life when he was killed by that reaper…

Sam’s eyes widened as the gears on his mind whirred and something _clicked_.

“Cas… Cas didn’t leave on his own, did he?” said the younger Winchester. His tone was neutral. Or as neutral as he could muster anyway. He looked at Dean just in time to see his brother’s jaw clenching even more and shutting his eyes, as if he was in pain.

“I tried, Sammy… I– I _tried_. Zeke… Zeke said he’d leave if Cas stayed… and I wanted Cas to stay, I really do, but you were dying and—”

Sam didn’t have the energy to yell or be angry anymore. “ _Damn it_ , Dean.” He sat in front of his brother, elbows on the table as he massaged his temples.

“He’s human now and you kicked him out? The bunker is _safe_. It’s warded and hidden and— please tell me you at least checked on him.”

“I… Cas can take care of himself.”

“Did you forget that he _actually got killed_ before we found him? He’s probably still being hunted by angels. Jesus, it’s been three months, and you didn’t check on him _even once_?” The panic and guilt in Dean’s face made Sam stop. He would have liked to say more, but as much as it feels great to call Dean on his bullshit, Sam didn’t want his brother to feel any more guilty than he was. Dean’s probably doing a good job of doing that to himself.

Besides, bitching wouldn’t really help their friend.

So Sam sighed, and stood up. “I’m getting my laptop and try to find Cas. Are you gonna help or what?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah okay.”

* * *

Burning the body took longer than it should have, mostly because Ethan can’t stop stealing glances at Castiel. It was a weird name, he thought, but surprisingly fitting. It was smooth to the tongue like a lazy wave of the sea.

The man’s movements were graceful and precise as they hauled the body away from the pond-slash-lake. After a considerable distance, they laid down the corpse and Ethan shrugged off his small bag of supplies from his shoulders. He opened it and brought out a pack of salt, a can of gasoline, and a box of waterproof matches. He didn’t know if werewolves could come back as ghosts, but it was better to be cautious and paranoid as fuck in this life.

Castiel held out his hands, and Ethan obliged him by handing him the salt. They were nice hands, the hunter thought, and it took him a considerable amount to shake off where his thoughts were going. He didn’t need those right now. Besides he only just met the guy, it’s bad manners to think those kind of thoughts on a guy you just met.

Still, he can’t help but hope that this Castiel guy would be into dudes too.

Hunting was a lonely life, at least for him. It was risky, and dangerous, and pretty damn stupid, but he wasn’t really comfortable trusting his life with someone else, at least not yet. And he _definitely_ wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready being trusted with somebody else’s life. Sure he’d been on group hunts, like that time with a pack of skinwalkers in Texas, or that vampires’ nest in Nebraska, but it wasn’t the same. (the nest was his first hunt, actually, and his first experience with the supernatural. His then girlfriend got turned and tried to kill him, but he was saved by a hunter named Garth. He was… odd, to say the least, but Ethan managed to convince him that he can help with the remaining vampires in the nest.)

It was pretty nice, burning a werewolf corpse with someone. It was even kind of romantic, with the sky turning orange from the first rays of sunlight while both of them stared at the fire.

Ethan turned his gaze towards the other man and sighed. The light of the fire was making Castiel’s features more prominent. It also made him look even sadder for some reason. He couldn’t figure out if it’s from killing that werewolf or from something else, like a memory.

The latter, probably. It had that same feeling when he was reminiscing about his past.

“So…” Ethan started. He didn’t really know what to say, but he did want to know more about Castiel. “Thanks again, you know, for killing the werewolf. For a moment I thought you were gonna get killed, but damn man, you’re a badass.”

Castiel turned and faced the hunter, smiling in that non-smile he had. (It was very cute and kind of distracting.) “Thank you,” Castiel said. He really had the most arresting eyes Ethan had ever seen in his life. He was sure there’s a chance that this beautiful man right in front of him is something supernatural too, but he was surprised that he didn’t mind. At all.

“I should… go. I have work,” Castiel continued.

Right. Probably to a Gas-n-Sip, judging from Castiel’s vest. It’s weird, for someone as badass as him to be working at a Gas-n-Sip, but Ethan figured he was retired or something.

“I could drive you. I mean, the hunt’s done and you seem nice so… I was kinda hoping we could hang out after your work… if you want.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise, lips parting a little bit. But his face morphed something akin to happiness. His smile was wider, and Ethan could even see a glint of white teeth. “That would be very nice.”

Ethan matched him with a grin. He was giddy. His heart was—for the lack of a better, more age-appropriate word—fluttering like a teenager.

“Awesome. Where to, Cas?”


	2. only the echoes of wings remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean tries to track down Cas, and finally find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this one's pretty Dean-centric. I hope you like it. :)

Dean fortunately had the foresight to give Cas a phone, so Sam said he could theoretically track Cas through that. Unfortunately, it was one of the old ones with no GPS. His brother told him it was fine, he could just look at phone records for any calls Cas made. Even more unfortunately, Cas rarely made any calls. (Dean twinged with guilt when Sam mentioned this. He remembered a vague promise to call Cas when he kicked him out, but Dean never did.)

The few phone calls he _did_ make was to some woman named Nora, which turned out to be Cas’s (or rather, _Steve’s_ ) boss at a Gas-n-Sip. He was only there for a month, working as a ‘Sales Associate’, before quitting, she answered as Sam and Dean (Private Investigators Smith and Smith) questioned her about ‘Steve’.

“He stayed until a week or so after he told me he was quitting so I could find a replacement. I’m gonna miss him. He was such a hard worker,” Nora said.

“Did he give you any reason why he quit?” Sam asked.

“Not really… he just said he was going on a ‘road trip’.”

Dean stared at her. “A road trip.”

“Yeah. Maybe with that guy—”

“What guy?” growled Dean with a ferocity that startled Nora enough she took a step back. He saw Sam in the corner of his eye frowning at him (Dean ignored him) and repeated the question, although this time with a more neutral tone. “What guy?”

“Well… there was this guy who always comes by at least once during Steve’s shifts. Mostly they talk. I figured he was a new friend he made, because Steve looked a lot less lonely compared to when he started working here.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He closed his eyes too, because even he couldn’t ignore the epic bitchface Sam was pointing at his general direction. It was the least he deserved, but he didn’t want to deal with any of that right now so he just walked out of the store. He heard his brother apologizing to Nora about Dean’s behaviour before the store doors closed with a soft tinkle.

He didn’t have to wait long sitting inside the Impala, fingers tapping listlessly at the wheel before Sam slid into the passenger’s seat.

“I asked Nora a few more questions about the guy Cas was friends with—”

“Definitely an angel or another reaper for hire—” Sam glared at him, his face saying, _you’re gonna shut the fuck up and listen_ , so Dean shut his mouth.

“I don’t think so. I mean, Nora said they’ve been friends for what, a month? If it was angels they would have kidnapped him immediately. The guy’s most likely human.”

It was Dean’s turn to make a face, shooting an incredulous look towards his brother. “Are you even hearing yourself, Sammy? Cas going off with some… some _guy_ doesn’t make any fucking sense!”

Sam sighed and slumped against the seat’s backrest. “He’s alone, Dean. Cas is fully human for starters, not just cut off from his powers like he was during the Apocalypse. Emotions must have been a bitch to deal with. Nora—she mentioned she’d catch Cas sometimes just… staring at his phone. So yeah, he probably got lonely.”

Dean gripped the wheel tighter and looked away. He should have been surprised he could feel any more guiltier than he already has, but his capacity for self-loathing and taking all the blame for himself was so great that it didn’t. (A small part of him was, in fact, kind of proud.) He could see it in his mind’s eye with a clarity that felt way too real: Cas waiting for a call that never came, because Dean Winchester was too afraid.

He can’t even be angry at Cas for not taking the initiative and calling first. The idiot probably assumed Dean didn’t want anything to do with him. (Not that Dean did anything to make Cas think otherwise.)

Sometimes Dean wished (though he’ll never admit it out loud) that he was good with words. That he was good at talking about feelings and all the shit Dean usually represses and keeps locked and tight in the furthest reaches of his being.

“Anyway, I was thinking… maybe we could call Charlie. She might come up with something I haven’t thought of,” Sam said, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.

“Uh yeah… go call her. I’ll… I’ll drive us back to the bunker.”

* * *

Ethan was humming, his fingers tapping the wheel as he tried to drive as slow as possible without making it obvious he was doing so. He was in a good mood. The hunt was over, the werewolf was dead, and there was a really hot guy by the name of Cas (he was fine with the nickname, although he had this sad, wistful look on his face the first time he mentioned it) in the passenger seat of his car. He was glancing every now and then towards Ethan, and it was making the hunter’s heart beat a little bit faster like a smitten teenage girl. (He didn’t mind the the comparison at all, because seriously, even a straight guy would feel like a smitten teenage girl with those eyes. And that face.)

Cas glanced at him and said, “I like that song you’re humming.” (And that voice.)

The hunter looked at his side, grinning. “Really?”

“It reminds me of… a friend.” Cas turned away and looked through the rolled down car window. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad again. Ethan’s grin fell, but he continued humming the song, picking up where he left off. He wanted to pry and ask, but now wasn’t the time. Mostly because they’re almost at the Gas-n-Sip where Cas works and also because the exhaustion was catching up on him.

He stopped right in front of the store. Cas opened the car doors, but turned at the hunter and smiled at him, this time a happy one. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for driving me.”

Ethan smiled back. “Nah, it was nothing. Besides the motel I’m staying at was near anyway.” It wasn’t. “So… what time does your shift end? I was thinking we could meet up for lunch.”

“My shift ends at two.”

“Awesome. Want me to pick you up here?”

Cas got out of the car and closed its doors, but bent down and smiled at Ethan again. “That would be fine. You should get some sleep,” he said and walked away.

Ethan backed out of the Gas-n-Sip parking lot and drove as fast as he could to the motel he was staying at. He’s looking forward to having lunch with Cas, and sleeping would be the quickest way to make the hours pass by. Although, judging by the way he was getting excited like a kid the night of a school field trip, he might not get any sleep at all.

He was instantly proven wrong when he collapsed in bed upon entering his room.

Six hours later Ethan woke, grumbling. Sleep was one of the things he missed from his normal, monster-ignorant life. He’d be lucky if he could get more than four hours of sleep. At least there was coffee. He remembered reading somewhere that goats invented it or something. He didn’t know if that was true or not, but he’d probably thank the first goat he’ll come across with anyway.

He stood up and stretched while walking towards the motel room’s windows. Ethan opened up the curtains to let the sunlight in. He then walked towards the kitchenette and turned on the electric kettle. Right above was a cupboard where the free packets of coffee, sugar, and cream were hiding. A mug was also sitting there, along with a box of disposable plastic stirrers. He grabbed them all, laying down the packets and stirrers near the kettle while taking the mug to the sink for a wash.

The kettle started whistling soon after. He tore off a coffee packet and dumped its contents into the mug. He did the same to four packets of sugar and a packet of cream, as well as taking out a stirrer from the box. He poured the boiling water into the mug, and stirred it slowly as his thoughts wandered on Cas.

He was a mystery. Undecipherable, but intriguing. He was really hoping he wasn’t a vampire or something, because that would just _suck_. Well, if that was the case he was hoping it would be one of those ‘vegetarian’ types he sometimes heard about from other hunters. But really, dating as a hunter was complicated enough; dating an actual supernatural would be a whole other can of worms he wasn’t ready to explore yet.

The caffeine was finally doing its work as Ethan feel a bit more alert. He stripped off his clothes (still vaguely smelling like werewolf) and went inside the bathroom for a shower.

He was out after thirty minutes. For a moment he panicked as he asked himself what he should wear on his lunch date with Cas, but then he remembered he only had the one duffel of clothes and they were all pretty much the same shirt and jeans he always wears. So he picked the nicest shirt he could find, a green shirt with a subtle striped pattern on it, and a clean pair of jeans. (The shirt was tighter than he was comfortable with, but he’s gotten compliments before while wearing it. Said they ‘bring out his eyes’, whatever that means. Also, it showed off his physique, and a small part of him was hoping that Cas would check him out.)

After quickly dressing up, he glanced at the motel’s clock. 1pm.

It was still too early to meet up, but maybe he could check the diners near the Gas-n-Sip for some reconnaissance.

Ethan wondered what Cas’s favourite food was.

* * *

They were drving through Wyoming when Charlie called them back. Dean tensed as Sam hurriedly answered his phone.

“Hey Charlie. That was fast. Hold on, let me put you on speaker,” his brother said, putting his phone on top of the Impala’s dashboard.

“You found anything, Charlie?” asked Dean.

“Hello to you too, Dean. So, good news first—”

“You mean there’s bad news?” Dean interrupted. He’s trying to keep himself calm, but his mind can’t stop conjuring images of Cas dead, or Cas being tortured. The worst was Dean being too late to save him, with Cas dying right before his eyes. _Just like last time. He kicked the door open but the reaper was already plunging the blade through Cas’s—_

“Uhm… it’s just… news.” Charlie sounded a bit sheepish. Dean was about to ask another, but Sam spoke first.

“Tell us the good news first, Charlie.”

“Right. So good news is, Cas left a voicemail fifteen minutes after I tried tracking his phone. The call came from Harrisburg, South Dakota, a few miles south of Sioux Falls. I’ll send the coordinates to your phone.” Dean turned to Sam, who did the same. His brother’s eyes were wide, and Dean’s pretty sure they’re sporting the same expression. The two of them haven’t been anywhere near Sioux Falls since… well, since Sam and Dean tricked Crowley to be the third trial.

“Uh, guys, you still there?”

Sam recovered first. “Uh yeah. Sorry about that. What’s the other news?”

“Uhm…” Charlie was hesitant, which probably meant it was really bad news.

“Charlie?”

“I… kinda recorded the call Cas made.”

Dean wasn’t surprised, but Sam was, so he said, “What? How?”

“Oh uhm, you know… military satellites.”

“…Right,” Sam finally said, awestruck. Dean didn’t really care how Charlie managed to do what she does, so he just said, “Let’s hear it.”

“Uhm… okay. It’s… kinda short.” Charlie was silent for a while, the only sound the tapping of a keyboard. Dean was holding his breath (and by the looks of it, so did Sam), as a soft beep rang through the phone’s tinny speakers.

At first there was only silence, but Dean realized that it was the sound of a person breathing.

_It was Cas._

He sounded awful. They were short, raspy breaths, as if he was deprived of air. As if he was in too much pain to talk. It felt like eternity, listening to Cas’s breathing, but it was really just a few seconds when—

_“—I’m sorry—”_

_Click._

The three of them were silent for a full minute. Only the sudden roar of the Impala punctured the heavy air, as Dean unconsciously floored it and accelerated towards their destination. The words echoed inside Dean’s head, bouncing and amplifying until it threatened to consume him.

_I’m sorry._ Those words weren’t for Dean, but it felt like it anyway. He wondered what Cas was apologizing for, and to whom. Not that it mattered. Dean wanted to say the same, he wanted to shout himself hoarse and let the whole world know how sorry he was, how he fucked up. He wanted Cas to hear him.

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

“Charlie uh… thanks for the info,” Sam finally said. Dean spared him a glance. His eyes were looking straight ahead, jaws tight, grim determination masking his brother’s face.

“Anything for my boys,” Charlie fondly said. “I still haven’t met Castiel so you’d better go get your angel, okay? Good luck!”

“Thanks Charlie,” Dean said, his voice gruff and tight. Sam took his phone and ended the call.

“I’m gonna get some rest. Wake me in a few hours so I can take a turn driving so you can rest too.”

“Sure.” As much as Dean wanted to drive the whole way to South Dakota, resting made sense. It wouldn’t do Cas any good if one-half of his rescue team was tired and sleep-deprived.

As Sam closed his eyes and tried to get some rest, Dean prayed.

_“Hey Cas. I… I know you’re human and I dunno if you can hear me but… We’re gonna get you back, alright? We’re gonna take you home to the bunker. So don’t give up. Whatever’s happening to you right now, don’t give up. Please. Me and Sam, we’re gonna get you back, I swear. And when we do I’m never letting you go again Cas, I promise. So please… please be safe…”_

* * *

The drive to South Dakota was shorter than normal, mainly because Dean ignored the speed limit and drove as fast as possible. Sam did too (to Dean’s surprise), although he was more careful than Dean’s almost manic driving.

The coordinates Charle gave them pointed to an abandoned barn on the outskirts of Harrisburg. It was small and dilapidated, and it eerily reminded Dean of the barn where he first met Cas.

Sam went straight into the Impala’s trunk and opened it, taking out two angel blades and handing one to Dean. He was glad they had a spare. They got it from an angel who recognized the Winchesters and tried to attack them while they were on a hunt a few weeks back.

A gold Lincoln Continental (a ’78 by the looks of it, Dean surmised) was parked near the barn’s right side, its engine still running.

Dean looked at his brother, who gave him a quick nod. They both raised the blades in their hands, ready to attack. They walked, quick and silent. As they got nearer the barn doors he spotted an angel banishing sigil painted on the door, the blood already halfway dry.

He was expecting screams. Dean prepared himself for that, hearing Cas scream from the torture and the pain. He even prepared for total silence, just in case they were too late.

_“—gonna be fine, okay? You’ve had worse, judging from the stories you told me. I’m gonna get you to a hospital so they can patch you up, alright Cas? Stay awake, okay. I’m carrying you to my car, it’s not that far—”_

What he didn’t expect was a voice. It wasn’t the low, reassuring gravel of Cas’s voice. It was higher, but was still identifiably male. The voice was soft, gentle, soothing. With another quick look at Sam (who just raised an eyebrow), they both kicked the doors and ran inside.

Seeing Cas again was a huge, unpleasant jolt in the veins. He was naked, except for a faded blue shirt providing cover below his stomach. Every inch of his skin was exposed, every inch littered with wounds and cuts and bruises. Most of them were torture marks from an angel blade, Dean guessed. Some of the cuts looked like Enochian, concentrated on his chest, his stomach and his limbs.

His face was so full of bruises it coalesced into one, ugly, purple mess. His nose looked broken. His lip was also split, and both of his eyes were swollen.

But it wasn’t those that freaked out Dean the most. He only felt angry, to be honest. Angry at the winged bastards that did it to his friend. Angry at himself for kicking Cas out.

No, the one that freaked him out the most was Cas’s hair.

_Destiny can’t be changed, Dean._

It was longer, and messier. He had stubble, somewhere between his usual barely there five o’clock shadow and the peach fuzz he had when they were stuck in Purgatory. But most of all, the way he looked right now was exactly the same as the Cas he met at Camp Chitaqua. Dean also realized the shirt covering Cas was the same one he wore when he was talking women into participating in that orgy Dean interrupted.

_All roads lead to the same destination._

It sent Dean’s mind into panic. They may have stopped the apocalypse and gave destiny a big ‘fuck you’ in the face, but maybe Dean would always find a way to fuck up Cas.

A voice pierced through the fog of his mind, harsh, and threatening.

_“Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing here?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Cas I didn't mean for you to get tortured it just happened ;-; But I get to write Dean freaking out because Cas looked like Endverse!Cas, ahaha. That was fun. I wrote that too because one, Endverse!Cas's hair was sexy as fuck, and two, his hair this season (8 and 9 too) was kinda boring.
> 
> I think way too much about that angel's hair, forgive me
> 
> Oh, and sorry too for the cliffhanger of sorts. I swear it was a good stopping point.
> 
> But yeah, next chapter the four(well, three because Cas is like, unconscious and so close to dying) of them finally meet!


	3. green-eyed sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Losing your files because you were too lazy to backup your shit was unsurprisingly demotivating.
> 
> Real sorry about that.
> 
> Anyway, warning for torture. It's imaginary, but the descriptions got kind of graphic so uh... I don't even know why I keep doing this to Cas :(

The voice was harsh and threatening, quite unlike from before. It was enough of a distraction to Dean that he looked away from Cas’s battered body and towards the source of the voice.

_“Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing here?”_

The guy’s face was contorted in fury. He had an angel blade raised on his right, ready to attack at any sign of threat. There was a huge cut on his left forearm, which Dean assumed the guy had done to paint the sigil on the barn doors. He was standing protectively in front of Cas like—like he was _his angel_.

Waves of anger washed over Dean. “No, who the _fuck_ are _you_?”

“I asked first.”

Before Dean could retaliate, Sam interrupted him. “Uh, I’m Sam, and this–” jerking a thumb towards the older Winchester, “–is my brother Dean. We’re friends of Cas.”

The guy’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t let down his guard. His eyes darted on their weapons. On any other circumstance Dean wouldn’t mind, but Cas was _right there_ , and he’s hurt and—

“Cut yourself with your angel blades.”

“What.” Dean’s voice was controlled now, but no less furious.

“Just to check that you’re not angels. You don’t really give off an angel vibe, but I’d rather be sure right now.”

It was smart, and as much a Dean hated to admit, he’d probably done the same. He quickly sliced a forearm, with Sam quickly following his lead. It stung of course, but it didn’t light up like an angel wound. The guy’s tense posture visibly relaxed, but not much.

“Right. Not demons or other supernaturals too. That’s… good,” he whispered to himself, Dean barely hearing it. “My name’s Ethan. You guys hunters too?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, lowering the blade in his hand. Sam did the same, and so did Ethan. Dean took it as his cue, quickly walking towards Cas and kneeling beside his battered body.

He looked even worse up close. His breathing was shallow. Dean noticed that beneath the fresh wounds were scars. They looked way too old to be a recent cut, so Dean assumed Cas’s (presumably angel) torturer healed him, but not completely, leaving those ugly scars for whatever reason.

Or Cas was being tortured for months.

Dean couldn’t decide which one was worse.

There were rope burns in his ankles and his wrists, the rope a few feet away. Dean looked around, and saw a chain hanging off the barn’s roof, a black, rusting hook on its end. The sight filled Dean with dread, threatening him to puke his guts out.

_For a moment Dean was back in hell. Cas was dangling in front of him, two hooks digging through each of the angel’s wrists, and another one on each side forcibly spreading his wings out. It was bare, exposed bone, each feather carefully and lovingly torched with fire. His arms got the same treatment, skin and muscle peeled off._

_Cas’s torso was an empty cavity save for his heart. It was beating, slow and fast then slow again, a pure blue glow from inside pulsing in time with it. His thighs and legs were littered with scratches and bites from hellhounds. Finally, the angel’s feet were cut off, dangling uselessly from the leg with a thin sinew of skin._

_Adorning Cas’s head was his own intestines, an earthly approximation of the halos angels supposed to have. His face though, was untainted and beautiful, devoid of wounds and blood and fire, all the better to see the pure fear on his blue eyes._

_Dean stepped forward, blade in hand, and Cas’s lips trembled, opening his mouth to speak._

_“—I’m sorry—” His voice was staticky, as if it came through a phone. The angel never did get a chance to speak again, screaming and screaming as Dean kissed his blade on every inch of Cas’s skin._

_“Dean,” his angel begged, blood choking him._

_“Dean…” Tears and blood poured out of Cas’s eyes._

_Dean—_

“DEAN!” Sam’s concerned face came into view, and it took Dean a couple of blinks to focus on his brother and push out the horrible image in his mind. “I’m fine,” Dean gruffly replied. Sam as usual didn’t look convinced. “Seriously Sammy, I’m fine. We need to focus on Cas right now.”

His little brother just sighed and didn’t say anything, so Dean hooked an arm beneath Cas’s shoulders, and another under his knees, carrying him bridal style. He stood up slowly and carefully, trying to avoid disturbing his wounds as much as possible.

“Do you need help?” Sam asked.

Dean just shook his head. “Nah, I can handle it,” he said, all the while staring at the angel’s face. He wished, more than anything, for a pair of blue eyes to stare right back.

“Where’s the other guy, uh… Ethan?” Dean asked as he started walking towards the barn doors.

“He’s just outside, clearing the stuff on his car so Cas can lie down there while we drive him to a hospital.”

 _Not a fucking chance._ “Cas goes with us. In the Impala.” This Ethan guy may have gotten to Cas first, but Dean didn’t trust him one bit.

Sam surprised him by rolling his eyes. “Ethan’s car has more space, Dean. The Impala’s backseat isn’t really that comfortable for sleeping, probably even more so for Cas because he’s hurt.”

His brother was right. “Are you seriously going to trust this guy? We don’t even know him!” Dean hissed, because he really didn’t want Cas out of his sight.

“But Cas does. I think he’s the guy Nora mentioned.” Sam opened the barn doors to let the three of them out.

“And that changes things how?”

His brother gave him a weird look, something between exasperation, like he can’t believe Dean was asking such a stupid question, and amusement, the kind which meant Sam knew something his older brother didn’t and will be very smug about the fact. “He reminds me of you,” his brother only said.

_What the fuck does _that_ mean?_

* * *

Dean was stubborn, especially when it comes to people he cares about, people he considers family. Sam knew this, but he can’t help but huff in frustration as his brother’s protective instincts went overdrive. He was annoyingly adamant about wanting Cas in the Impala with them, even if his face clearly showed even _he_ thought it was a bad idea.

At least Sam managed to convince him in the end, on the condition that the younger Winchester would be riding with Ethan, stabbing him if he so much as _think_ about hurting Cas, and Dean tailing closely behind, just in case the guy tries to make an escape. (Dean wanted to be the one riding with Cas, but Sam squashed that idea immediately. It would be in all of their best interests for Dean and Ethan to be _not_ cooped up in the same car with a wounded Cas on the back.)

It was getting really ridiculous, to be honest, and after all this… when Cas heals and gets better, let it be known that Sam Winchester would be teasing the shit out of his brother.

The four of them were driving north to the nearest hospital in Sioux Falls. Ethan was driving as fast as he could, with Dean tailing behind as promised. Sam was in the Continental’s passenger seat, checking Cas’s condition every few minutes. It was silent in the car, but not uncomfortably so. It was the silence that accompanied an urgent mission.

But Sam can’t help but be curious about the new guy, so he did what he always do when he was curious: he asked questions.

“So… Ethan. How did you and Cas meet?”

The hunter must have been deep in thought as he jerked at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Oh, uh… a hunt. I was tracking a werewolf, and it came up to Cas and tried to eat him, but Cas knifed the bastard right in the heart. It was awesome.” Ethan smiled right then, as if reliving the memory.

“You knew he was an angel though,” Sam noted.

“Yeah,” Ethan said with a shrug. “Call it hunter instinct, but when I first met him he felt like he was not human at all. I wasn’t expecting an _actual_ angel though. I mean, who would? Anyway, I invited him for dinner when one of his dick brothers found him. Tried to kill Cas, but Cas killed him first. The guy lit up when he died, so that’s how I found out angels are real and they’re… not nice at all.”

“Wow.”

“I know right? He’s pretty badass.”

One detail struck Sam. “Invited him for dinner? Like a date?”

At that, Ethan actually blushed and looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “What, the guy’s awesome. He knows a lot of lore stuff, he’s _terrifying_ with a blade, he’s hot as fuck, it’s a goddamn trifecta. Well… discounting the fact that he’s carrying quite an enormous amount of baggage no sane person would ever want to deal with. And that he’s already in l…”

Ethan narrowed his eyes as he noticed Sam. “Why are you grinning?”

“Because my hunch was right,” the younger Winchester simply said. He knew he can trust Ethan—or at the very least, trust him when it comes to Cas.

“Oh shut up.”

With that out of the way, Sam asked more seriously this time. “What happened with Cas, by the way? I mean, how did he…” his words trailed into silence as Ethan’s face turned grim and guilty. His grip on the wheel turned tighter, and closed his eyes when he finally spoke.

“Cas wanted to visit a friend’s place. Guess he was feeling a bit nostalgic, and I wanted to know more about his past so we went. It was this salvage yard, uh… Singer’s I think?”

“Yeah,” Sam managed to say.

“We stayed there for a few more days. I was buying some stuff to eat when they took him. The place was a mess. Cas definitely fought back, but there must have been too many of them… Shouldn’t have left him… maybe I could’ve—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sam quickly said.

“Sure feels like it was. If he hadn’t called I would’ve never even found him… You know the last thing he said to me?”

Sam knew, but didn’t say anything.

“He said he was sorry,” Ethan said with a disbelieving chuckle. “For what, I have no idea. Although frankly it probably wasn’t for me. Not all of it, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Ethan was silent for a few moments. “Your brother… Dean, was it? He’s… he’s the one Cas saved from Hell, wasn’t he?”

Sam froze, suddenly having a bad feeling where this conversation is going. He answered the other hunter anyway. “Uhm… yeah.”

“He loves talking about this two brothers… how they were great men and changed their destiny, stuff like that. It was mostly Dean, really, but you were there too. And although Cas never mentioned any names, it wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed from embarrassment. Sure they’ve stopped the Apocalypse, but they’re the ones who started it too. They’ve saved lives through hunting, but it’s not as if they’re the only hunters out there. The younger Winchester didn’t think they would warrant praise like that. (Especially from Cas. He might be human now, and he might have made colossal mistakes in the past, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is praise coming from an angel millions of years old.)

But before Sam could say anything, Cas was screaming, loud, painful and unearthly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit short, but I cut out the last part and moved it to the next chapter because I haven't finished writing it yet and I wanted to post a chapter. Plus it's longer than I planned it to be, so yeah.


	4. feels like a djinn dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a Cas POV! Although it's more of what's happening inside his head when he was unconscious.
> 
> I got distracted by Shameless and Gallavich so this was late, woops.

Castiel is flying. In Hell, sure, but he’s still flying and he sorely misses it. It’s curious, that he looks like his vessel, but with wings, just like how most humans imagine angels to be. The last time he was here, he was in his true form, bright and blinding against the blackness of the Pit.

Dean is wrapped in Castiel’s arms. The Righteous Man is thrashing, trying to break free. Screaming at him, to let him go. He says he does not deserved to be saved.

Castiel holds on to him tighter in answer, further purging the darkness out of the Righteous Man’s soul. Taking up Alistair’s blade twisted and blackened his soul, but there are cracks where its former warm light seeps through.

It is beautiful. Even more so now that his soul is devoid of the taint of Hell.

Dean screams at him again. _Stop,_ he begs.

The hellgate is in sight, and Castiel flaps his wings harder. He picks up speed, and he is going faster than he’s ever flown before, and before he knew it he bursts out of Hell and into the Earth, Righteous Man in tow.

Dean Winchester is sa—

* * *

The first thing Castiel notices about Ethan is his eyes. He never really paid any attention to a person’s physical features before, not when you can see their souls. But now that he’s human, it’s always the first thing he notices: the curve of a neck, the cut of their jaw, the wetness of their lips.

The color of their eyes.

They’re green. It isn’t the exact shade, but it’s close enough to make Castiel’s heart clench.

He wishes he could forget, but he only remembers.

* * *

It takes the utter look of betrayal in Dean Winchester’s face for Castiel to realize that he loves him. It only takes a moment right after this realization to know that it will never be.

Castiel isn’t bothered as much as he thought he would. Even if he hadn’t betrayed Dean’s trust it would never have happened anyway.

They are—were just friends. Family, Dean says, but it doesn’t apply to him now, not after what he did, what he’s doing, what he will do.

If he dies winning this stupid war, so be it. He doesn’t really have that much to look forward to.

At least Dean would be safe.

* * *

When Ethan kisses him for the first time, Castiel tenses and slides out the angel blade inside his sleeve. The hunter notices. He quickly backs off and apologizes.

_Shit, sorry I didn’t mean to—fuck… I’m so sorry, it was a mistake—_

Castiel relaxes his grip on the blade.

_—totally misread the situation… I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable and—_

The former angel kisses him back to shut him up. Ethan startles in surprise, and before he could respond Castiel breaks away.

 _It’s okay. I liked it,_ Castiel says, and he means it. Ethan’s lips are warm and soft, faintly tasting like tomato sauce from the pasta they just had. _I was just surprised. The… only sexual experience I had got me tortured and killed._

Ethan’s eyes widens. _Holy shit._

Castiel just shrugs. He doesn’t really want to dwell on it. Not so much because he was tortured and stabbed in the stomach (he figures he deserved it anyway, all things considered), but because it reminds him of Dean kicking him out.

 _Would you like to continue kissing?_ Castiel asks. Ethan gives him a small smile, snorting while rolling his eyes, but the hunter leans close and kisses the angel again.

* * *

Lucifer is in his true form today.

He’s beautiful. He has always been beautiful, even after his Fall. It’s different now, his beauty, but it has always inspired awe and terror should anyone lay eyes on him.

 _Hello little angel, how are you?_ His voice seeps under his skin and crawls along his veins.

 _Dean visited me today,_ Castiel says.

 _Oh? What did the mudmonkey want?_ Lucifer wraps his grace all around Castiel, covering him inside and out.

 _Nothing, actually._ The archangel tightens his embrace and pain shoots through every atom of Castiel’s being. He screams, but he couldn’t hear his voice.

_You know that’s not true, Cassie._

_He only wants to see if you’re still useful, you know._

_I know,_ the angel screams.

 _Falling for a human? You should know better, little angel._ The pain vanishes instanly, only to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of hate. Castiel can’t decide which one is worse.

_I can’t help it. I don’t… I don’t care if he’s just using me, I just—_

_Castiel._

Michael appears, also in his true form. Castiel fears him, even more so than Lucifer. At least the Fallen archangel loves him, even if it is a lie. All Michael gives him is his contempt and his righteous fury.

Castiel screams, but no one is there to hear it.

* * *

Ethan’s on his side in an instant when Castiel wakes up screaming.

 _Hey Cas, you okay?_ he asks.

 _Just a nightmare,_ the angel says. He’s used to them, ever since his Fall.

The hunter sits beside him and wraps his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, immediately calming him down. He’s grateful Ethan doesn’t say anything and let them bask in silence. Castiel lets his head fall into the hunter’s shoulders.

They just sit there, Ethan sometimes absentmindedly rubbing the angel’s shoulders with his hand.

It’s nice and quiet and peaceful, and Castiel knows in his heart and soul and being that he does not deserve it.

* * *

_Cas… It’s me… We’re family… We need you… I need y—_ Castiel cries and screams as his angel blade plunges deep into Dean’s heart for the 67th time.

 _Don’t you fucking come near me again you bas—_ Dean dies at Castiel’s hand for the 234th time.

 _Look man, I… You’re it for me, you know? I don’t see myself spending the rest of my life with anyone else and—Cas, what are you doing? Cas? Why do you—_ Castiel loses count how many times he has killed him.

Dean’s laugh is beautiful and painful. _Oh I know how you feel about me. It’s pathetic and disgusting. If you were a chick maybe. I’ll make you beg for a good fucking. But falling in love? Don’t fucking kid yourself. Nobody’s going to love you, least of all me. You wanna know why I kept you around? ’Cause your useful and you’ll do everything I tell you, like a good little bi—_

Castiel feels tired, so he just stabs Dean quickly in the chest. He can’t feel anything anymore. He doesn’t want to feel.

He has a moment of reprieve, and so the angel falls into the ground. He’s surrounded by thousands and thousands of Dean’s corpses. All of them are beautiful, even in death.

He turns to his side and comes face to face with the most recent Dean he just killed. The hunter is on his side too, and Castiel’s hand reaches out to his cold, pale cheeks. The angel stares at those lifeless, green eyes as he gently strokes his jaw with his thumb.

Castiel relishes the moment, because it’s the closest he is ever going to get.

* * *

_Have you seen them?_

_Seen what?_

_The stars. Up close, I mean._

_Yes._

_How was it?_

_When I was an angel it just… is. I’ve seen billions of stars be born and billions of them die. I’ve loved them of course, because Father created them and we were made to love His creations. I remember them, every single one, and it was beautiful. But I prefer seeing them from here._

_Really?_

_Yes. It makes me feel more human._

* * *

He wakes up in a barn. The walls are painted with sigils upon sigils. He recognizes all of them, although he doesn’t know how. The wall with the barn doors however, has a silhouette of wings on them. It isn’t painted; It looks more like it’s… burned, imprinted onto it. He stares at it curiously and walks towards it.

He stretches his arm out to touch it, but he hesitates at the last moment. The barn doors however, opens itself.

There is a park outside. He can see a lone man flying a kite. He steps out, intending to go to the man.

He greets the man with the kite when he reaches him. _Hello._

The man with the kite looks at him and smiles. _Hello._ The man with the kite then stares at the sky again.

He does the same.

He doesn’t know how much time passed, but he says, _My name is Castiel._

The man with the kite doesn’t say anything; he just smiles.

_I am an angel of the Lord. I _was_ an angel of the Lord._

_What else do you remember?_ the man with the kite asks.

_Eyes._

_Just eyes?_

_Just eyes._

The man with the kite fishes something out of his pocket. _Here,_ he says, holding out something for Castiel to take.

It’s a ball, made of glass, about the size of his palm. He takes it, carefully and with both hands so as not to break it. Inside there is some sort of light; it reminds him of coals and fire, the burning gold of a sunrise and the dusty black of the night sky. It emits a roar, and another, two distinct voices battling each other for dominance.

 _It’s so loud. And blinding,_ Castiel says.

 _Good,_ the man with the kite replies.

Castiel stares at the ball for a few more moments before asking, _What should I do?_

_It’s up to you._

So Castiel frees whatever is inside of the ball, letting it drop and shatter in the grass.

* * *

Dean couldn’t stop pacing. Cas wounds were glowing like an angel wound, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Knowing their lives, it was most likely the latter. It must have been the sigils the fucking bastards carved on Cas’s skin that was making him light up like a lamp.

They were in the middle of an empty field. The bare trees were not sufficient enough cover should anything happen, but fortunately for them the road was empty too, with only a few cars speeding towards their destination.

At least Cas stopped screaming. When he first heard him, his blood had run cold. The pain in Cas’s voice was enough to make Dean want to rip his own ears out, and the feeling of helplessness almost swallowed him whole.

He had no fucking idea what to do.

* * *

Castiel wakes up in a vast blankness. It isn’t the devouring darkness he’s expecting, but it isn’t a blinding whiteness either. If he had never been an angel, he’s sure he would have gone mad trying to make sense of it.

But he hasn’t gone mad, because it’s probably just a different plane of existence. A plane he hasn’t been before by the looks of it, which is rare. Visiting all of them would only take moments for an angel, and Castiel has taken that trip many times before.

He doesn’t bother looking around, because there is only the blankness and the sameness around him. So Castiel looks at himself.

He’s vaguely human-shaped. Two arms, two legs. He can see through himself though, and instead of flesh and muscle and bone there is only a bluish, pulsing light inside. It’s constantly moving and flowing, agitated.

**_CASTIEL._ **

He feels a sudden urge to kneel and crumple into the ground (or wherever he’s standing on, because he’s not even sure he’s actually standing). The voice is powerful, loving, beautiful, and commanding. Castiel has never heard it before, but he is paralyzed with disbelief at the possibility—

_Father?_

A wave of emotion washed over Castiel which he can only describe as a smile and an affirmation.

His insides threaten to rip him apart as emotion after emotion clash and conflict with each other: joy, anger, love, hate, forgiveness, resentment. He doesn’t know what to feel, but he does manage to speak.

_Am I dead?_

**_YES._ **

Castiel thinks of his brothers and sisters, He thinks of Balthazar, of Samandriel, of Rachel and Hael and the countless others who died at his hand.

_Does… does every angel get to see You after they die?_

**_NO, CHILD._ **

_Then why do I—_ Castiel stops. A thought dawns on him. _It’s punishment. For all I’ve done._ Surprisingly, the angel doesn’t feel fear. He realizes he has been waiting for this, because no amount of penance would ever absolve him of his sins and crimes.

He does feel a twinge of regret, because accepting this would mean he would never get to see Ethan again, or Sam.

Or Dean.

 _I’m… ready,_ Castiel says after a while.

 ** _ARE YOU, LITTLE ONE?_** The angel felt His amusement, although he doesn’t understand what’s amusing.

_Yes._

* * *

Whatever’s happening to Cas seemed to be getting worse, since the light coming out of his wounds intensified, almost blinding.

Dean wanted to be close—tried to be close to Cas, but he couldn’t. Looking at him was too painful, especially now that he can’t do shit to help his angel.

He must have been getting pretty desperate, because he was actually contemplating on praying—to God, for fuck’s sake. Dean almost didn’t, mainly because God’s a deadbeat, and a massive prick.

Dean prayed anyway. Not that he can do much else.

_Please—_

He didn’t finish as light erupted from Cas. Dean instinctively shut his eyes, although colors still bled through his eyelids. It was surprisingly not the bluish-white he was expecting; it was gold and red and green, and a lot of other shades he didn’t have a name for.

Dean kept his eyes closed even after he knew the light show was over. He’s afraid of what he’s gonna see if he opened them. Cas could be… dead, or turned to ash or something. Maybe there’s going to be wings burnt into the ground, even if Cas wasn’t an angel anymore. Maybe—

 _“Holy shit.”_ The voice was from that Ethan guy.

It was the last thing he expected to see when Dean opened his eyes.

What used to be a bare field with yellowed grass and withered trees was now lush and full of life. The grass was green; tall and upright as it swayed with a gentle breeze. The trees were bursting with leaves. There were also a lot more of them than before.

A multitude of flowers in various colors surrounded Cas. Most of them were blue, but there were reds and pinks and yellows scattered among it.

The most surprising (and most relieving) part was that Cas’s wounds were… gone. No scars, just his skin fully unblemished and his face perfectly pristine.

Dean inched closer, slowly, holding out any hope that Cas had survived whatever the hell just happened moments before. Surely, trees and flowers were a good thing, right? And his wounds healed so—

“He’s breathing.”

* * *

When Castiel wakes up, he sees three faces staring at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll stop torturing Cas now, because god, that thousand Dean corpses scene was fucking painful to write.


	5. black wing, gold wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part got cut out again and moved to the next chapter because Dean was way harder to write than I expected.
> 
> And Sam was way easier to write. Didn't see that one coming.
> 
> Anyway, naked Cas! :D

The three of them were kneeling beside Cas when he opened his eyes. Nobody said a word, and Sam was pretty sure Dean and Ethan stopped breathing for a moment.

Cas’s eyes darted from face to face, from Sam then Dean and finally Ethan, and then he frowned, his eyebrows scrunching; the younger Winchester imagined that if the angel wasn’t lying down right now he might have tilted his head in confusion. “I’m… alive…” he said, a half-statement and half-question.

Ethan instantly smiled and placed a hand on Cas’s temple, rubbing it affectionately. “Yes you are. You alright?”

Dean frowned at the gesture, but he didn’t say anything, although he looked like he wanted to. Sam almost laughed, but he managed to disguise it as a cough at the last moment.

“I… think so,” Castiel said as he pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t wearing anything, so the shirt covering his junk slid off into the ground.

Sam quickly stood up and looked away, because really, a front seat viewing of an angel’s genitals was definitely _not_ something he wanted right now. Dean did the same, although his cheeks were a bit flushed. Plus his brother seemed to think he was being subtle, but the way his eyes were constantly darting around between Cas and anywhere that isn’t Cas was a dead giveaway.

The younger Winchester filed that away for later on his mental folder of _‘useful things to tease Dean with’._

Ethan didn’t seem to be bothered with the angel’s nakedness; he just picked up the fallen shirt, gave it to Cas and said, “Might wanna put a shirt on. Don’t want to make your friends uncomfortable.” He then smirked at Dean, who only replied with a strangled cough.

“I’m gonna grab some pants for you, okay?” Ethan said. When Cas nodded his assent, the hunter ran back towards his car. The angel then slowly put his shirt on. (Sam was glad the shirt was long enough it covered Cas’s junk.)

Cas suddenly spoke. “Sam… Dean…”

Sam smiled. “Hey Cas.” Dean smiled too, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re here.”

It was Dean then who spoke. “Course we are. Why shouldn’t we be?”

“Because you didn’t… want me…” Cas stated like an irrefutable fact, paired with a confused frown and a slight tilt of the head. Sam noticed his brother’s face falter at that. He was still probably beating himself up over it, and while Sam still hadn’t forgiven Dean for what he did, he really should just focus on the fact that Cas was okay (Although he did seem pretty out of it, not that Sam can blame him. He _did_ almost die).

“But we’re here now,” Sam said, and he patted Cas on the shoulders.

Ethan arrived, clothes in hand. “Okay, underwear—” He gave Cas plain black boxer-briefs, which the angel put on without fanfare. On the corner of his eye Sam saw Dean’s expression, his eyes wide and his mouth partly open from… well, Sam didn’t want to know. “—and pants.” Ethan passed him a pair of faded, well-worn denim and the angel put that on too.

It’s weird, seeing Cas without his usual suit and trench coat. It’s still a bit disorienting, really, even if it wasn’t the first time Sam had seen the angel without his usual getup. And with Cas’s hair longer and even more unruly than before, if the younger Winchester didn’t know Cas was an angel Sam wouldn’t have suspected he was anything but human.

“Ah crap, I forgot the shoes…” the hunter said, but a mischievous smile played across his lips. “Want me to carry you?” he asked Cas.

The angel huffed, but he smiled in amusement as he shook his head. “No, I’m f—” he started, but before he could finish he promptly passed out.

Dean and Ethan were on him in a flash, his brother on one side and Ethan on the other, propping the angel up before he crashed into the ground. “What the fuck?” Dean said. “Cas? Cas!”

“He’s sleeping… I think,” Sam said.

“Well he _did_ almost die. Then there’s the weird lights, and the flowers and trees and shit… What’s up with that, anyway?” Ethan asked.

“No idea. But… well, it might be angel grace…” said Sam.

Dean (who was staring at the angel’s face the whole time he was passed out) turned to look at Sam and said, “He’s human now. Cas said Metatron took his grace.”

Sam shrugged. “I know, but… remember Anna? There was a giant tree where her grace was, and this one’s kinda similar… but the color of the lights were different, so I’m not really sure.”

“Huh. Figures angel grace can grow plants and stuff… although it’s kinda ironic most of them are assholes,” Ethan said with a huff. “But anyway, Cas needs to rest, so I’m gonna get him to my car and we’ll—”

“No. _We’re_ taking him back to the bunker,” Dean growled.

“Oh you’ve got a place? Cool. I’m coming with.”

“Let me spell it out for you. When I said ‘we’ I meant me and Sam. You go and do whatever. You’re not coming with us.”

Sam groaned. It was kinda funny at first, Dean getting all pissy and possessive of Cas, but now it’s just a pain in the ass. “Dean, it’s fine, he can—”

“ _Damn it Sammy, we don’t even fucking know who this guy actually is!_ ”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a friend of Cas.”

“Cas is family, so you’re not going anywhere near him.”

The hunter scoffed, and his voice had gone cold. “If he’s really family to you, what the hell was he doing all alone when he was newly human then?” Dean’s jaw tightened in anger and guilt. Ethan, if he noticed, didn’t seem to care and continued. “Oh wait, that’s right, Cas mentioned some _friend_ who kicked him out and didn’t explain anything why he was kicked out. He thinks it’s his fault by the way, because angels have it out for him and staying with you would put your sorry ass in danger. He’s family, you say? You wanna take Cas? Fine. But wherever he’s going I’m going, _so you can go fuck yourself and stop telling me what to do._ ”

The venom on the hunter’s voice was so palpable Sam visibly flinched. His brother looked like he’s just a moment away from swinging a fist, and the only thing that was stopping him from doing so was the fact that he was holding on to Cas. Sam didn’t really want this day to end in bloodshed, so he had to intervene, fast.

He grabbed the unconscious angel on the waist and hauled him up his shoulders. Dean and Ethan was surprised enough from Sam’s sudden movement they let go, so there wasn’t much resistance from the two. Cas was lighter than he expected; Sam always thought he’d be heavier, but considering that he was human now the younger Winchester should have guessed otherwise.

“ _Okay,_ so here’s what we’re gonna do. Me and Cas will be riding _your_ car—” Sam said, pointing at Ethan, “—while you two go ride in the Impala.” When Dean looked like he was about to protest, Sam quickly cut him off. “No, look. When Cas wakes up he’ll just ask about Ethan anyway, ’cause he’s the last person he was with. It’ll be a lot easier for all of us if he comes. Anyway, we good?”

“Fine by me. Keys are in the ignition,” Ethan said while shrugging. It was amazing (and just a little bit unnerving) how fast his tone changed.

Dean however, while calming down somewhat, still seemed to be in a disagreeing mood. “Why the hell am I stuck with him?”

Sam rolled his eyes. He started walking towards Ethan’s car and said, with a smirk, “Go play nice with each other.”

“ _Not gonna fucking happen,_ ” Dean said through gritted teeth.

“Great!” Ethan said. “Where are we going?”

“Kansas.”

* * *

The atmosphere inside the Impala was, to put it lightly, excruciatingly tense.

Infuriatingly enough, it seems Dean was the only one feeling it. Ethan was on the passenger seat all relaxed, looking out the car window while his hand tapped in rhythm to the loud blaring of the radio. It only made Dean’s foul mood even fouler.

He knew why he was getting pissed; and as much as he tried to force it down and repress it like he always did when it came to emotions he didn’t want to deal with, it reared its ugly head, poking and prodding and toying with his mind.

Dean was jealous.

His feelings for Cas shifted somewhere along the way. He didn’t know what the hell it was, he just knew it changed. If Dean had to guess, it might have been in Purgatory. Then again, it could be earlier than that, and it was only then that he was comfortable enough to acknowledge that the angel didn’t fit in his life like before. Before he was family—a brother like Sam. But now, well… Dean would rather let the Apocalypse happen again than think of Sam just like the way he thinks of Cas right now.

Dean jerked in surprise as the sudden image of Cas naked came unbidden on his mind. The Impala swerved a little, and it was fortunate the highway was empty except for his baby.

Ethan gave him a questioning look which Dean returned with a glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” the other hunter replied with a shrug. He broke his gaze and continued staring out the window. A moment later, he spoke. “This wasn’t the first time, you know.”

Dean froze. “What?”

“This is the… third time—well, second technically. A month back he got caught by a faction of angels. They were torturing him for info I think. He taught me this tracking spell so I was able to find him quickly, but by the time I arrived Cas was gone and there were dead angels everywhere.” Ethan bowed his head down, his face crumpling in anger. “Apparently a rival faction infiltrated the place to ‘rescue’ Cas, but they just did the same to him.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. He could only wallow in guilt because there was nothing he could do to say or make it so that those things never happened to Cas.

“Anyway I… I like him, okay. That’s why I wanted to come with. Make sure he’s doing fine.”

Ethan’s tone and his words jerked Dean out of his reverie and the unpleasantness clawing his insides intensified. “You… like him?”

The hunter frowned. “Well, yeah. He’s nice. And very knowledgeable with lore and stuff.”

“No, I mean… are you interested in him?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “What’s it to you?”

And wasn’t that the million-dollar question.

* * *

There was movement on the rear-view mirror that caught Sam’s eye.

Cas stirred, although it didn’t seem like he was awake yet. The younger Winchester sighed with relief; he couldn’t actually tell before if the angel was alright until that moment. Well, as alright as he can be, he supposed. They didn’t know if Cas’s unexpected recovery would have any consequences, but Sam pushed the thought away and focused on their blessings.

The angel was fine, and safe, and looking very much alive.

There was a groan, and Cas, while trying to sit up, said, “Ethan?” His voice was rougher than usual (Sam managed to convinced himself it was from lack of use, not because of the angel screaming himself hoarse from torture.)

“Nope, it’s Sam.”

“Oh.” Cas blinked: once, twice, three times, chasing the last hints of unconsciousness away. “Where is he?” he asked.

“In the Impala with Dean,” Sam replied.

“…Why?”

“Uh…” Sam didn’t know what to say—well, he did actually, but he didn’t really want to elaborate on Dean’s newfound jealousy as of yet. So he just answered the first thing that came to mind: “They both lost on rock-paper-scissors.”

Cas frowned and did his head-tilting thing. “I don’t understand.”

Sam grinned. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going back to the bunker, alright?”

“Oh,” the angel said before he fell silent, although it wasn’t long before he spoke up again. “Is that… okay? Dean said I couldn’t stay.”

The younger Winchester sighed. He quickly debated with himself on whether to wait when they get to the bunker to explain things, but decided it would be best if the matter was cleared as soon as possible.

“You can stay, okay? As long as you want. Look—you know how the trials were messing with me, right?”

Cas nodded. “You were dying.”

“Yeah… but of course Dean wasn’t having any of that.” Sam’s voice turned slightly bitter as he remembered.

“So he let this angel Ezekiel trick me into getting possessed—”

“ _What?_ ” The shock in Cas’s face was almost comforting.

“For three months, without me even knowing. He did heal me, so I guess I should be grateful but…” Sam trailed off, lost on the feeling of being violated, but he quickly shook it off. “Anyway, he revived you too, but he said if you stayed at the bunker he would leave, so… Dean chose.”

“Are you okay, Sam?” the angel quietly asked, his face etched with concern.

Leave it to Cas to worry about whether Sam’s okay, never mind the fact that the younger Winchester wasn’t the one that just got tortured and almost died. The hunter smiled in reassurance. “I’ve had better days, but yeah… I’m good. I’m still mad at Dean for pulling that shit though. Fucking furious, actually.”

“I’m sorry it happened that way but… I’m glad you’re alive. And… well, at least it was Ezekiel. He was a good soldier, and he never did have the dislike for humanity most angels have. Although… I’m curious why he helped you at all.”

Sam snorted. “I’m not. And he’s still a dick for giving that ultimatum.”

The angel shrugged and said, “I don’t blame him. It _was_ my fault my brothers and sisters Fell…”

“Cas…” Sam considered telling him it wasn’t his fault (and it really wasn’t, if anybody’s at fault it’s Metatron), but it’ll probably just fall to deaf ears. The one disadvantage of having the Winchesters as an angel’s main point of reference for human behavior was that, once they feel guilty and blame themselves for shit they have no control over, it was almost impossible to convince them otherwise.

The hunter let it go, for now, and decided to change the topic instead.

“So you and Ethan, huh?”

Cas smiled—nearly grinned actually, with teeth and all—and said, “Yes. He’s very nice. And a good hunter. The sex is—”

“Alright Cas, I don’t need to know about your sex life,” Sam interrupted while laughing.

“Right, of course.” Cas said, his tone all grave and serious, but he was smiling a little.

The angel suddenly yawned. “I think… I’m going to sleep for a bit more.” He scooted over to the side and rested his head against the window. As he closed his eyes Sam turned on the radio. The warm, soothing voice of a cello escaped from the speakers, and the hunter lowered the volume so as to not disturb Cas.

Sam hummed along for a bit as he traveled through the rest of the highway, back to the bunker.

Back home.


	6. this holy fire of desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, fucking finally. Dean was such a pain in the ass to write. Seriously. There were times I wanted to scream at him.
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://adustyspectacle.tumblr.com) if you have time.

Ethan was very impressed when they arrived at the bunker. It was… well, he didn’t really have any expectations, but it was huge, and that was before Sam mentioned they haven’t really had the time to explore every inch of the place.

Standing beside him was Cas, who was thankfully upright and awake, if a bit tired. He also seemed a bit… cagey, as if he was unsure he was allowed to be here at all. Anger briefly surged inside him, knowing full well it was pointless to be angry right now.

“You alright?” Ethan knew Cas hated being fussed over but he can’t help it, not with what just happened. (Come to think of it, he went crazy with the nagging when the same thing happened to Cas before.)

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind his time, and only replied, “I’m okay, it’s just… backseats are uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t hear you complain the last time you were there,” Ethan said, his voice laced with pretend hurt. (The gesture’s intended effect lessened when he playfully nudged the angel’s shoulders with his.)

“That’s because I wasn’t trying to sleep then,” Cas said with a smirk. Ethan laughed as he remembered all the times the two of them were in the backseat of his car. For some weird reason Ethan couldn’t even begin to guess, Cas had the tendency to be disproportionately horny on car rides. (Not that Ethan had any complaints, but the amount of times he had to make an unplanned stop because Cas teased him from the passenger seat were truly staggering. It did, however, made car rides infinitely more interesting than before, albeit longer.)

Someone cleared their throat, catching Ethan’s attention. He forgot there were other people in the room. He tore his gaze away from Cas and turned to look at the only Winchester present with them.

“Uhm, sorry to interrupt, but I’m gonna go check the spare bedroom for you two. You guys hungry or something? I think there’s still some food left in the fridge,” Sam said.

Cas shook his head, and Ethan wasn’t particularly hungry either, so he did the same. “A shower would be ni—wait, does this place have a tub?” Soaking in hot water would be perfect.

“Fourth door to the left,” Sam said with a grin, as he pointed towards a corridor just beyond the library.

Ethan grinned back. “Thank Sam!” The hunter grabbed the angel by his wrist and dragged him towards the direction the younger Winchester pointed them to. It wasn’t hard to find, as the door to the bathroom was clearly labeled with a brass plaque.

He turned to Cas and asked, “Hey, how about you? I bet a bath will perk you right up.” Ethan smiled, teasing and flirtatious. “And you know, I’m sure this place has a much bigger bathroom than mine.”

Cas just rolled his eyes. “I know, I’ve already seen the bathroom here.”

“Is that a yes, then?” There’s the sound of a door opening, but it was distant. Or rather, Ethan was too distracted to notice or care.

“Just get in,” the angel said as he opened the bathroom door and pushed Ethan inside. He followed a second later and closed the door behind him.

“Wow.” The bathroom was _definitely_ bigger than his own bathroom, not to mention the bath tub. It was white marble, and could easily fit four of him with room to spare.

“Yes, it’s impressive,” Cas said, already naked. He was looking at Ethan with an eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips just a bit turned upward, making Ethan drop their duffel bags onto the floor. The damn tease. It was scary how the angel learned so quickly, especially when he was just so clueless about a lot of things before.

The hunter didn’t mind at all. He slowly took off his clothes as Cas filled the tub with hot water. Ethan always thought Cas seemed more like an angel every time he saw him naked—not that he knew what angels actually look like, or if he can actually see them without burning his eyes out, but the sight never failed to send shivers up and down the hunter’s spine.

After the tub was filled just below the brim, Cas stepped inside it and lowered himself down. Ethan followed, sitting just beside the angel. The tub was deep enough to submerge them up to their shoulders, and it was wide enough that they can stretch their legs properly and relax.

It had been a long day.

The quiet moments with Cas were always his favourite. In all the years he had been a hunter, he realized he hated the silence, in retrospect. Silence meant he was alone.

But silence with Cas was the soft sound of his breathing as he slept, or the trembling of his shoulders after a nightmare, or the way his eyes seemed to pierce right into the very depths of your soul while Ethan wakes up in the morning.

Silence was the contentment in his sigh as the warm water caressed him.

Ethan turned his head to look at the angel. His skin was unblemished, unmarked. There were no wounds decorating his body, or bruises etched on his face. Cas’s eyes were closed, and the muscles on his face were relaxed and content, free from worry and pain. It was beautiful.

It hit him right there and then, _Cas is alive. He’s okay._

The hunter raised a hand towards the angel’s neck. It was warm to the touch, solid and tangible and real. Something tight uncoiled inside his chest and Ethan felt himself lighten. He leaned and kissed him—at Cas’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I’m so sorry…” Ethan’s voice was so small. He didn’t care.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Ethan.”

“If I hadn’t left—”

“They would have killed you. Or worse—they would have tortured you, right in front me, and _then_ killed you.”

“Yeah well, it still fucking sucks. You almost died, man. I don’t even know how you’re alive right now.”

“I know,” Cas said. He returned the gesture, kissing Ethan in the cheek, and then the lips. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

They kissed for a while. It was unhurried, gentle, savoring. It was kissing for the sake of kissing—

—for the sweet taste of his mouth, and the light pressure of Cas’s teeth as he bit Ethan’s lip in turn—

—the wetness of his tongue—

—or the roughness of his stubble as he trailed kisses along the cut of his jaw—

—the fine line of his neck, his throat—

—or his bare shoulders, kissing every inch, just proof after tangible proof that it wasn’t just some sort of dream.

“Just so you know, I’m going to spoon the shit out of you tonight,” the hunter whispered. And before Cas could complain (he really hated being the little spoon), Ethan added, “C’mon, it’s just for one week.”

“Is this non-negotiable?” groaned Castiel.

“Pretty much.”

“Can we reduce my sentence to one night?”

“Nope. And there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.”

Cas then smiled at him, leaning so close Ethan could feel the angel’s warm breath in his ears, and the places where skin touched skin felt like it was burning. “Oh, I can think of a few ways that’ll definitely convince you…” Castiel growled, and the fucker pitched his voice even lower. It gave him goosebumps. He was pretty sure his goosebumps _had_ goosebumps.

“Now, that’s just unfair,” the hunter croaked.

“But it would be enjoyable for the both of us. How would that be unfair?”

He had a point, but Ethan’ll be damned if he gave in without a fight. “Five consecutive nights, and one sex marathon.”

“Three nights, and you can claim your big spoon privileges any day of the week.”

“I still get that sex marathon, right?”

“Of course. And we can fuck anyway you want right now. As… training.”

“Ugh, fine. Three nights. This better be worth it,” Ethan grumbled, but he was pleased all the same. “I’m giving up four nights of being the big spoon here, you know.”

Cas’s laugh was music to his ears.

* * *

The minute they arrived at the bunker, Dean went straight towards his room. If anybody asked, it was because he was cooped up for hours with Ethan. It _was_ true, but he’d be lying if he said it was the only reason.

 _Are you interested in him?_ The hunter never did answer Dean’s question, but to be fair, he didn’t answer his question either.

_What’s it to you?_

He’s just looking out for Cas, that’s all. And for Ethan as well. Cas was never interested with guys. He got married to Daphne, he made out with Meg, and he had sex with April, so he’s definitely not into guys. Dean would know.

_You haven’t seen him for three months. What do you know?_

But no one can change that much in, what, three months, right? That’s just absurd.

_He’s human. He was angel, but now he’s human. That’s a pretty big change, don’t you think?_

“Fuck.” Dean threw his duffel bag on his bed. He needed a distraction from his thoughts. Right then he realized they need another room, for Ethan. Cas’s room was already prepared, months ago. Right when Sam and Dean decided to find Cas after he Fell.

Right before Dean threw him out.

He stopped himself, and focused on the present, on what he can do now, because Cas was finally here and—

Dean was just stepped out of his room when he saw Cas push Ethan inside the bathroom. He froze, his eyes wide from shock.

_What… the fuck…_

He stayed rooted on the spot, for what seemed like an eternity. He must have been hallucinating. Yeah, that was it. He’s tired from the long drive, and he really needed some sleep. He’s just seeing things.

Cas didn’t go inside the bathroom with Ethan.

He didn’t, because that wouldn’t make any sense.

“Dean, are you okay?”

He turned his head, slowly, towards the sound of the voice. Sam. His brother’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t, not really, but he never really did get the hang of admitting to anyone he wasn’t anything but peachy, least of all his little brother. “So, where’s Cas?” he asked instead, as nonchalant as possible. He’s pretty good at that.

Or… maybe not, because Sam was staring at him, unimpressed. “Taking a bath, I think,” he said, his voice perfectly even.

“Right.” Dean didn’t know what to say. He wanted to talk about it, this… this thing with Cas and Ethan, whatever the fuck it was. He just didn’t want to be the one bringing up the topic.

But really, it was seriously freaking him out that he even wanted to talk about this. He never liked talking about this shit. “Uh, anyway. Cas’s room’s already good to go—” Dean said while waving a hand towards the door right in front of his room. “—and uh… I think there’s a spare room for Ethan next to—”

Thankfully, his brother brought it up. “Nah, there’s no need.”

“What? Why?” Dean asked, even though he already knew. God, as much as he wanted to deny everything, he knew. “Please tell me he’s leaving, ’cause that’d be great,” he added, because it made him feel a little bit better.

“No, you jerk it’s because…” Sam narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips into a dissaproving frown, as if preemptively daring Dean that if he so much as think of talking shit, there’d be consequences. “…It’s because they’re together.”

The confirmation was like a dam breaking inside Dean, and a veritable deluge of emotions threatened to drown him. Betrayal, anger, hurt, hope, and jealousy swirled inside, resulting in one, big, confusing mess.

“Oh,” was all he managed to say. A flash of sympathy—or was it pity?—took over his brother’s face for a moment. It was gone in an instant, but Dean saw it, and he couldn’t stand it.

“I’m gonna— I’m gonna—” Instead of finishing the sentence, Dean stalked off towards the garage. When he was sure he was out of sight from Sam, Dean ran.

* * *

Cas and Ethan stayed at the bath far longer than anticipated, but the hunter wasn’t complaining. For one, he just had a pretty great orgasm, courtesy of one angel—and two, the bunker apparently had infinite hot water, and he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to soak just a little bit longer.

They did get out after an hour or so, mainly because Cas’s stomach growled in hunger. After getting dressed, they went to the kitchen (the angel still remembered from his last visit), and found Sam preparing sandwiches.

“Hey guys,” the younger Winchester said in greeting. “I figured you two would be hungry after your bath.” Sam smirked.

Ethan’s eyes widened in surprised while Cas squinted in confusion. “Guess you heard us, huh?” The hunter chuckled, embarrassed. At that point, the angel finally understood, and he looked down as he blushed in embarrassment too.

“You weren’t exactly quiet. Plus, the bunker has some seriously weird acoustics.” Sam said as he finished preparing the last plate. He took it off the countertop and placed it with the other two plates on the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry, Sam. We’ll be quiet next time,” Cas said.

“Don’t worry about it man. C’mon, eat.” The three of them sat down and took a plate each. The sandwich was a simple affair of what looks like grilled chicken leftovers, lettuce, and tomatoes—although there was so much lettuce and tomatoes it might as well be a salad.

But food’s food, so he gladly took a bite.

“Dude, this is awesome,” gushed Ethan, while Cas moaned in agreement. (It was a pretty hot moan, which may or may not be on purpose. Ethan can’t tell. It may have made sense the first few times Cas ate food, but really…)

“It’s just leftovers. I’ll have to do a supply run in the morning,” Sam said.

“Can I come with you, Sam?” Cas asked.

“Sure,” the younger Winchester replied, and at that, the angel smiled, and god… it was beautiful. There was nothing but pure joy in his features.

All the times Cas smiled because of him flashed right before his eyes. Ethan realized there was always an undercurrent of melancholy in them. He hadn’t noticed.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to notice.

He ignored the way his heart ached at the thought.

* * *

For one moment Dean considered taking the Impala for a drive—he needed to breathe. To think.

He settled for locking himself inside. Dean closed his eyes and slouched against the driver’s seat, hands resting on the wheel. He took a deep breath and let his thoughts wander.

Dean loved Cas. Contrary to what he expected, the hunter only felt relief, and an overwhelming wave of want and need at the realization, although it was tempered by a great sense of loss and longing.

The painful irony of Dean realizing he wanted Cas the one time his angel was in a relationship with someone else was not lost on him.

He was surprisingly okay with it, now he had time to process everything. It hurt like a bitch, of course, and will probably just get worse the longer Ethan stayed, but right now Cas just being here was overtaking everything else.

Dean took another deep breath. He would have to have a conversation with Cas. He’d have to apologize to his angel and make things right. Dean would ask him to stay this time (it would mean Ethan too, but he ignored it at the moment).

Stepping out of the Impala, Dean exited the garage.

He heard laughter—Sam’s—the minute he entered the library. Dean followed the sound into the kitchen. He was greeted with his brother laughing so hard his cheeks were streaked with tears, Ethan trying to barely hold his, and Cas groaning and hiding his face behind his hands.

It was a lovely sight, prompting a slight pinprick of envy from Dean. He ignored it and spoke. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing!” Cas hastily replied. It might have made Dean more envious if it wasn’t for Cas’s flushed cheeks. His angel was _embarrassed._ It coaxed a grin from Dean, and was a welcome distraction to the conversation he was going to have with Cas.

“Oh c’mon Cas, you’re pretty hilarious when drunk, admit it,” Ethan said with a smirk.

“It’s true,” Sam wheezed in between his laughing fit.

“I am so looking forward to hearing this story,” Dean said.

Cas levelled glared at the three of them—Ethan first, then Sam, and finally Dean—with his _‘I’m an angel of the Lord, I can smite you where you stand’_ look, except the red flush on his face only made it, well… adorable.

Dean—in more ways than one—was fucked.

“Cas uh, can we talk?” his angel immediately stiffened, and it took Dean a moment to realize it was the same thing he said back then, when he told Cas he couldn’t stay. Sam stopped laughing, and his face was sporting one raised eyebrow and a particularly cold glare that eloquently said, _‘Don’t fuck it up.’_

“Of course,” Cas replied, clipped and measured, never giving anything away, his face a cold, featureless mask. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he wasn’t even trying to stare at Dean. Mostly, his eyes were fixed on the ground, but he shot Ethan a quick smile when the latter squeezed his shoulder in sympathy.

It hurt, but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t ignore it, even if he wanted to.

“I’m gonna show Ethan their room,” Sam said while standing up. The other hunter stood up as well, and gave one last comforting smile to Cas before following Sam out of the kitchen.

They were alone now, and Dean’s nerves just notched up way faster than he liked. But before he could say anything, Cas blurted out, “Sam already told me what happened.”

“He… he did?” Dean said, strangled. “I’m so sorry Cas… I just… I had no choice, Sam—”

“Dean, I know,” Cas said, his eyes brimming with understanding and forgiveness as he finally looked at Dean in the eye. “Sam’s more important to you than I am, and your brother is a dear friend, so if you had told me, I would have left willingly.” Cas sighed, and let his gaze drop back to the ground. “And while letting an angel possess Sam was… rash, I at least could’ve checked Ezekiel was who he says he was, and what his intentions were so you two would’ve been safe.”

_Sam’s more important to you than I am._

It was like being torn by hellhounds all over again. There weren’t any resentment, or anger, or anything, except maybe exasperation, as if Dean had forgotten the earth revolved around the sun and Cas was reminding him about it.

Dean wanted to grab Cas by the shoulders and scream at him for how wrong he was. He wanted to kiss him and hold him and never let go, just to prove him how wrong he was.

But that didn’t change the fact that he did choose Sam over Cas, even if Dean could rationalize it to himself that his brother was in immediate danger and his angel wasn’t.

He had never regretted saving Sam’s life, never regretted putting him first before anything else, not even when the price was steep and the consequences were dire.

But for the first time in his life, he’d regretted, and it scared the hell out of Dean.

“I’m sorry…” It was all the hunter could manage to say at that point.

“Dean, it’s okay.” His angel’s voice was soft and comforting, and on his lips was a small smile Dean didn’t deserve. He loved Cas, but Dean wasn’t worthy of him.

He never was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things I've realized:
> 
> Cas was becoming more and more like his Endverse counterpart, but without the drug addiction and stuff. Well, he's probably high on endorphins because of all the sex he's having. Don't ask me why he turned out like that, I have no idea.
> 
> Also, aside from him having green eyes, I've never actually described what Ethan looked like. What do you guys think he looks like?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, thanks for reading. Hope you like it so far.
> 
> Come bother me at [Tumblr](http://adustyspectacle.tumblr.com), [Dreamwidth](http://adustyspectacle.dreamwidth.org), or [Livejournal](http://adustyspectacle.livejournal.com).


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